


trying to lose the world inside

by cherryvanilla



Series: The Riot's Gone Away (s14 Codas) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bunker Sex, Coda, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Episode Tag, Episode: s14e05 Nightmare Logic, Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Massage, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: Dean is so full with pride he’s practically bursting. There’s something about watching Sam come into his own, comfortable in his skin and his role as a leader, that warms Dean to his core.(Technically a sequel tojust be there 'til I know (the riot's gone)but can also stand alone.)





	trying to lose the world inside

**Author's Note:**

> I coudn't _not_ take all of Dean's heartseyes and all of their mutual worry and devotion to one another from s14e05 and turn it into a porny feelings fest. Enjoy!

Dean is so full with pride he’s practically bursting. There’s something about watching Sam come into his own, comfortable in his skin and his role as a leader, that warms Dean to his core. It’s also incredibly hot, as is the way Sam flushes under Dean’s lingering looks and praise. 

They’d reconnected the weekend before everything went down with Maggie, and it was exactly what Dean had needed. They were back on that sex train, population two, but moreover, Dean got to wrap his arms around his brother (and vice versa) and wake up next to him for a whole two days. Once their house was filled again, that actually started being kind of hot as well; sneaking out of one another’s bedrooms, stealing kisses in abandoned corners, making out as they fucked so as not to cause any noise lest the long hallways echoed their passion. 

Sam still wasn’t sleeping though, and it wasn’t solely because they were fucking like newlyweds. He’d stay up running intel and whatever else he did on his fancy laptop, while Dean wished his dick could magically lull Sam into post-coital sleep. 

Then the Maggie stuff happened, and sex was off the table while they encountered a new set of problems. When all was said and done, Dean was still the proudest big brother in the world but he was also worried as fuck at Sam spreading himself so damn thin over a mess Dean got them into. 

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d been starting to turn a corner. Hell, the weekend alone in the bunker with Sam had been the catalyst. It was pretty sad how quickly a Djinn could undo all of that. Dean isn’t necessarily drowning in self-guilt like he was, but he’s definitely not okay. Watching Sam be so concerned for him and so adamant at doing everything he can to find Michael aches at Dean’s heart. They both want so badly to fix each other, make everything okay. Yet there’s an air of helpless about it all that Dean can’t shake. 

When he leaves Sam in the kitchen to head for his own room, he’s hoping his brother will take the action for the invitation it is. They don’t need words 95% of the time. Moreover, they try not to use them when it comes to their physical relationship in case listening ears might be in the vicinity. 

It hasn’t escaped Dean’s attention that their mom has up and left to go connect with a Bobby Dean still doesn’t know, while both her sons are treading water and facing a goddamn super-sized monster battle. In fact, it’s rather telling that the only one hovering over Dean to make sure he’s alright, the only one that’s actually present every single day, is Sam. But he’s already made his peace with the caring, nurturing mother he built up in his mind as a kid and the one that in fact exists. 

Dean has barely had time to put down the supplies he bought before the doorknob to his room is turning. The door opens and closes again with the quiet snick of the lock. 

He smiles down at his feet before turning around, shielding what he’s laid out. “I hope you don’t visit all your students after class like this, or I might get jealous.”

Sam snorts, taking a step forward. “You’ve got a bit too much hands-on experience to be a student. More like a TA.”

Dean ignores the _blatantly_ obvious opening left for him with _hands-on experience_ and focuses on the end of the sentence.

“Now that’s hot,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows until Sam is within reach. Then they’re kissing, deep from the get-go. Kissing Sam never fails to be a revelation; something new unearthed through every flick of tongue and click of teeth. This time, Sam is bordering on frantic, eating at Dean’s mouth with single-minded focus. Dean knows its residue from their prior conversation, aware they are both consumed by the same desire for peace. Since that doesn’t seem to be coming any time soon, Dean will give his brother everything and anything that’s within his control, starting with solace behind this closed door. 

Dean runs his hands over Sam’s biceps and down his arms. He pulls back so their mouths are just barely connected. “Hey, easy there, Chief.” He places a gentling kiss to the center of Sam’s mouth, then the corner of it. “Mom’s away, and the kids are in bed. Slow down, alright?”

Sam exhales against Dean’s lips, nodding shakily. When they kiss again, it’s just as deep but softer, exploratory. 

When Sam’s heart rate has slowed beneath his palm, Dean pulls back again, turning them around and guiding Sam face first down on the bed. “Take off your shirt.”

Sam looks over his shoulder, confusion and amused donning his face even as he obeys the order. “Skipping straight to the main event?”

Dean rolls his eyes as he crosses to the bedside table. “Yeah, I figured foreplay is overrated at this stage in the game.”

The sarcasm receives the laugh he’d been hoping for as Sam gets himself more comfortable. Dean takes in the sinful curve of his spine, breadth of his shoulders, and swell of his ass. His brother is a goddamn work of art, and Dean still has to pinch himself at Sam choosing this life, choosing him. 

Sam, ever the initiative taker, has removed his jeans too in the time that Dean was opening the bottle and getting a towel. 

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Dean murmurs as he kneels between Sam’s (good lord) helpfully parted legs. 

“Learned from experience.” Sam mutters the words into the pillow, arms folded beneath it.

When Sam jumps as the oil makes contact with his skin, Dean can only smirk. That’ll teach him to dare consider Dean predictable. 

“Wha— ohhh.” Sam’s words trail off of into a moan. Dean slaps his hip lightly. 

“Gotta be quiet, Sammy,” he chides as his palms work gradually over the expanse of Sam’s glorious back. 

“Didn’t see this comin’,” Sam replies, a lazy drawl to each syllable. He sighs happily and Dean can already note the tension in his muscles beginning to melt away.

He smiles privately as he digs his slick hands into Sam’s shoulders, kneading. “Good. Now enjoy it.” 

Sam sighs again but it doesn’t sound as content. He reaches behind and finds Dean’s hand on his shoulder, twining their fingers together. “I need you to be okay.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to sigh. “And I need that exact thing from you. Second verse same as the first, Sammy. We’ve been round and round with this dance. So how’s about you just shut up and let me take care of you tonight.”

“Stubborn bastard,” Sam grumbles, but he squeezes Dean’s hand in acquiescence before letting go. 

“That any way to talk to your masseuse?”

Sam’s answer is lost in another muffled moan as Dean presses his knuckles into Sam’s taut skin. Licking his lips, Dean watches as his brother shivers under his touch. They’ve never actually done something like this before. Their intimacy is reserved for early morning spooning or long, slow lovemaking sessions. Dean has to wonder what he was thinking, never having suggested it before now. Maybe because it strips away their inability to withhold anything from one another. Dean can gauge every ounce of tension in Sam’s body, every sore muscle or bruised limb. He can catalog every single shudder and shake, more so than when they’re fucking, considering he’s not currently out of his mind with lust. 

He’s definitely getting there, though. Like this, Sam is like a banquet to be feasted upon and the quiet whimpers he’s emitting as Dean strengthens his strokes harder are intoxicating. He gathers more oil onto his hands, spreading it on Sam’ skin until he’s shiny and bronzed like a Greek God. He starts working his way down Sam’s tree trunk thighs, dipping his fingers beneath the edges of his boxers just to hear Sam gasp. Dean’s mouth is dry and his dick is aching by the time Sam begins shamelessly arching his back so his ass is brushing against Dean’s groin. 

Dean exhales shakily, hands stuttering on Sam’s hips. He allows himself to rock down once, twice. Sam takes it for all its worth, pressing back until the curve of his ass is riding along Dean’s trapped erection. 

Dean’s hands slip on Sam’s slicked-up skin, and he falls forward, pressing his brother into the mattress. 

“Fuck, you’re killing me here, Sammy.” He gasps the words into the curve of Sam’s shoulder and grinds his hips down hard against his ass. His dick riding along Sam’s crack makes them both groan. “This was supposed to be about relaxing you so you get some damn sleep, not revving your engine.”

Sam lets out a throaty laugh. “Considering you pretty much exclusively want to rev my engine, it seems like an inherently flawed plan.”

“You might be right, there. And stop using big words when I’m on top of you.”

Sam laughs again, and Dean delights in the sound. Then he gives up on any remaining pretense of a massage and slides down Sam’s body, taking his boxers with him before parting his cheeks without preamble. 

Sam doesn’t scream, only because they’ve got a house full of amateur hunters once again. But Dean knows he wants to, knows he’s biting the pillow right now, low whimpers escaping his lips only to be quickly muffled by the fabric. 

Once upon a time, Dean used to think he wouldn’t enjoy doing this. He’s pretty damn into hygiene and the very idea of it just seemed...icky.

( Sam had laughed in his face when he’d voiced as much and then proceeded to rim Dean until he saw stars. 

“That _icky_ enough for you?” Sam said afterward, mouth slick with spit and expression smug. Ickiness aside, Dean tackled his little brother to the bed and kissed the daylights out of him. 

The first time he’s tried it himself, Sam couldn’t stop the incoherent babble spilling from his lips. Dean had felt drunk on the power of being able to reduce his brother to a quivering mess.)

Now, Dean licks at Sam’s hole until every last ounce of tension has ebbed away from his body, aside from at the obvious location. Sam is dragging his dick against the sheets of the bed. Dean doesn’t have to imagine what the friction feels like, because he’s doing the exact same thing, except he’s still got his damn jeans on. 

“Need you,” Sam says, a gasping whisper. “Please, Dean.”

Dean pulls back, licking hotly over his hole once more before nipping at one perfect cheek. “I got you, baby.”

Sam groans deeply at the words and shoves his ass backward. Dean grips his cheeks roughly, jiggling a little before taking another intoxicating taste. He wants to fuck his brother until he’s so boneless he can’t even move, but he also wants to never stop eating him out. It’s the very best kind of problem to have. 

He straightens up, stripping off his offending jeans and boxers and reaching for the oil before slicking up his dick. 

He settles back between Sam’s legs, whose breathing has gone shallow, in record time and sinks one finger in. 

“Don’t need it,” Sam gasps. “So fucking wet, man. Just put it in.”

“You sweet talker, you,” Dean replies dryly, body going hot at the knowledge that he did that, made Sam sopping wet with his tongue.

Dean brings their bodies flush, nestling his dick between Sam’s crack and just feeling that sensation for a few moments. Sam is breathing harsh and ragged, pulling air into his longs like he’s running a marathon. The head of Dean’s dick snags against his hole as he runs his hands up and down Sam’s arms. 

“So good. God, Sammy, you’re so fucking good.” He means like this, but he also means in general. His little brother is doing something pretty incredible here, setting up a line or successors that could maybe eventually take over the reins. It’s a nice thought, despite feeling like a pipe dream right now. And yeah, Dean still longs for their home back but watching Sam build this is breathtaking. Dean knows his eyes have been shining with unbridled pride, perhaps a little too much. Maybe he’s been looking more like a man in love, a fact he can’t deny. 

“Dean, please…” Sam’s thready voice filters through Dean’s thoughts. 

He places a kiss to Sam’s shoulder before lining himself up and sliding inside. 

Dean bites down on that same shoulder as he sinks in deep, listening to Sam’s bit off whimpers. He blankets Sam with his body, wishing for the millionth time he could shield him from pain. 

Sam breathes out sharply and reaches back to find Dean’s left hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“You feel incredible,” Dean whispers. 

“So do you,” Sam whispers back. His words trail off in a faint moan as Dean starts to rock against him, just grinding in deep, barely pulling back to thrust. 

“Kinda hot, ya know?” Dean muses, mouth dragging along the back of Sam’s neck, near his hairline. “House fulla people and having to be quiet.”

Sam snorts. “You’ve sure had a change of heart in the past week.”

Dean pulls back and thrusts in hard, making the bed shake and Sam gasp. “Hey, I’m not sayin’ I wanna start fillin’ out adoption papers. We already got one kid.” 

Sam inhales at that, squeezing his hand squeezed tight. Dean squeezes back, kissing a trail up Sam’s neck before biting down on his lobe. 

“But it is pretty scorching. To them, you’re this put together leader. But no one gets to see you as I do, Sammy. No one else gets to see you fall apart in this bed.”

“God, _Dean_.” 

Dean starts moving in earnest then, the two of them finding a perfect rhythm, in sync in this the way they are in all things. 

“Can’t wait to get you all alone again, make you scream.”

“Fff-fuck, yes.” Sam is bucking against the sheets now, circling his hips and practically riding Dean’s dick. 

“Want you to come on my cock, baby. Just like this.” 

Dean knows he can make it happen, they’ve both done as much in the past. He wants to know he’s undone Sam so much that this is all it takes, the angling of his dick so deep and the friction of the bedsheets. 

Dean’s sweating and so ready to burst it’s maddening. He can’t, though. Not until Sam comes first. He took care of Dean so well last weekend, had him blissed-out on his cock and mouth and just _being together again_ and now it’s Dean’s turn. That’s the way it goes, this balance they’ve set between them. 

Dean changes up the angle of his hips, knows he’s found the precise spot when Sam starts keening and grappling at the pillow with one hand, his other still intertwined with Dean’s.

“Fuck, right there. There. Dean, I’m gonna — _god_ , I’m gonna—”

It’s possible Sam is being too loud, but Dean can’t care. He wouldn’t stop now even if every eye in the bunker was on them. This is about Sam, about giving him everything he needs and deserves; a modicum of peace and release that Dean miraculously can deliver, if only briefly.

“C’mon, baby,” Dean whispers along the nape of Sam's neck, kissing his hair and salty skin. “That’s it. Let it go.”

When Sam comes, it’s an event. A thrashing, gasping, _scene_. He tightens around Dean’s dick so exquisitely sweet that Dean loses it a moment later, burying his face in Sam’s mess of hair and saying Sam’s name again and again like the mantra it’s always been. 

They’re still holding hands, palms sweaty yet firm, when Dean regains a sense of his surroundings. He’s still buried so deep inside his brother and he honestly never wants to move. 

“Talk about a happy ending, huh?”

Sam’s laughter is punched out of him. He tilts his head backward, mouth connecting with Dean’s jaw. “We might need to make that a regular thing.”

Dean smiles, tilting his head to capture Sam’s lips with his own. “You just say where and when you want these magic fingers, Sammy.”

He isn’t joking, is the thing. Dean would happily dole out massages on the regular, with or without the happy ending, if it gets his brother to unwind. 

Sam starts shifting under him uncomfortably, so Dean sadly has to move. He pulls out slowly, reaching for the towel he’d placed near the foot of the bed. Sam wrenches him back down onto his side before he can go far. 

“Stay tonight,” he whispers, mouth hot on Dean’s clavicle, their bodies curved into one another’s. 

“Sammy, we really shouldn’t—”

“I don’t care,” Sam whispers. “You’ll go back to your room early. Just — stay.”

Dean’s nodding before Sam’s even finished talking. There’s no place else he’d rather be, honestly. 

“Go to sleep, Chief,” Dean says softly, kissing Sam’s forehead. 

Incredibly, Sam does. Dean stays awake for hours, listening to the sound of his breathing. Tomorrow, Sam will be right back to sacrificing his health so he can get to the bottom of this Michael business. But tonight, he rests a little easier in Dean’s arms. 

[END]


End file.
